


The map that leads me to you

by sorryiapologizesomuch17



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 10:33:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorryiapologizesomuch17/pseuds/sorryiapologizesomuch17
Summary: 'It's silly.''No, it's not, it's cute.' He looks up and she's blushing, the shade of pink barely noticeable, almost hidden by the fire, but just about there, high in the apples of her cheeks. 'Tell me more,' she prompts.'I'd read my sisters, my mums and then when I ran out of family members to rope into my fun, and school came back from term, I'd go around doing it for other students, figured I could charge the um- more wealthy ones a couple of coins.'She almost giggled, 'Of course you did.'He continues on, smile wider now.'Eventually I ran out of people who were interested and school got in the way again, but,' he lifts her hand slightly and rests it gently on his knee, 'I've never really forgotten it.''So?''So, what?' his brows furrow together.'So, whats my fortune, Prophet Bellamy,' she teases.Or : A random, fluffy season 5 set fic, because our hero's deserve a break.





	The map that leads me to you

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO I DON'T KNOW WHERE THIS CAME FROM AND NOBODY ASKED FOR IT BUT HERE- have a fluffy season 5 speculation fic, there's enough for everybody. I'm sorry for all the mistakes you may find. I'm illiterate.....sorry.

He finds her wrapped up around herself at the makeshift fireside, knees curled into her chest and hands wringing nervously together to the point where he wonders if they're starting to burn yet; Her hair wild and untamed, the ends of it reaching just above her shoulders, acting a impromptu shield to prevent the brisk air from hitting the back of her neck. Cheeks rosy and eyes bright, and he wonders for a second how he ever lived without her.

She looks up as he begins to get closer, offering him a small smile as he takes a seat next to her on the wooden log, in the back of his mind he registers that it's damp and cold and incredibly uncomfortable, but then Clarke looks up at him again and he forgets the thought process completely.

'Hey,' she mutters, glancing over at Madi nervously from where she sits across from her. 

'Hey,' his voice comes out more shaky than he intends it to, so he clears his throat. 'Are you cold? I could go get you something to cover yourself with?' 

'I'm okay,' she says, voice barely audible over the crackle and hiss of the fire. 

She keeps her eyes trained on Madi, the girl engaged in a seemingly exhilarating and very animated conversation with Raven and Monty, and he wonders for a second whether she's actually checking up on her or whether she just doesn't know how to act around him anymore. He understands the feeling. 

Their reunion had been explosive, hands, arms, tears everywhere. The world had finally cut him some slack and feeling her, tiny and warm, wrapped around him like a lifeline, he felt like anything was possible now, that he had his person back. His best fucking friend. The girl he had loved with all his heart, the same heart that had been ripped violently out of him the day he had left her behind. That maybe it could return to him again. 

But then they'd been cut off suddenly by a round of gunfire and distant shouting and everything descended into further chaos. Since that moment, a mere 6 hours ago, he hasn't known what to say to her, finally struck with the realization that it's been six long years, and that he wasn't exactly the same person who she had said goodbye to before the world had ended. For the second time. That spending all those years without her up in space had turned him into somebody else, somebody almost unrecognisable to who he had been as a young man on the ground. 

He thinks she might of changed, too. So, instead of diving into the emotional stuff he just says-

'You've done well by her, Clarke.' 

She looks up surprised and his breath almost catches in his throat from the sudden intensity in her eyes. 

'By Madi,' he clarifies for some reason, unable to stop himself he adds, 'She's a good kid. And,' he pauses wondering if what he's about to say will sound weird. 

'You're a good mom.' 

She smiles at that, warm and bright and then looks down at her hands as if to hide it. He's relived. 

'Not really,' she chuckles. 'I've taught her how to use a gun and drive a car, pretty sure I couldn't teach a class on parenting 101.'

A sudden laugh escapes him and he looks away, too. 

'I don't know. Maybe you could try out for 'how to teach your kid to survive during the apocalypse 101'. '

'Nah, it's too much of a mouthful, nobody would turn up.' 

He chuckles again, and all of a sudden it feels lighter, like most of the tension has left the air. He thinks Clarke feels it too, loosing her grip on her own hands, but still looking at them like they hold the secret to something within them. In hindsight that might be what gives him the confidence to do what he does next. 

He reaches out for the hand closest to him, tentatively touching the skin covering the top of it, it's warm, a little rough from years of hard labour, and so, so small in comparison to his, and it takes him a few moments to realize what he's done. 

He feels her eyes focus on him, and he blushes slightly, hoping she won't be able to tell, not able to take his eyes off of their connecting hands. It's not the first time they've touched in the last 24 hours, but it's the first time neither of them have been fueled with adrenaline. Although he feels a rush of something warm in his stomach and her breath is starting to sound a little ragged, and suddenly his isn't so sure about that. 

He clears his throat as subtly as he can manage. And turns her hand so its facing upwards towards him, both of their hands a soft orange from the light of the dying fire. She opens her palm up wider as he studies it. 

'You know, when I was nine, my mother got a little sick. I had to stay home with Octavia the entire school holiday, which I actually thought was pretty cool.'

He can feel her smile next to him but he lacks the courage to look up. 

'I used to read her stories to get her to drift off to sleep, to keep her entertained. I don't know if she was actually interested in them, but I was.'

'I'd sneak off the library when my mum had enough energy to look out for her and read everything I could find about anything. History, politics, earth skills-'

She laughs, 'Politics?' 

'Yeah I know, I have no idea why I thought Octavia would be into whatever I had read, she was three, but I'd still go home and just recite all the most exciting things I had learnt there. Every night.'

'You're a great brother, Bellamy.' 

'Nah,' he thinks for a moment 'I probably should have taken ' How to teach your kid to survive in the apocalypse 101'.'

She half snorts, 'Yeah, real funny.' 

He smiles. 

'Anyway, one time I found this book on palm reading,' his thumb strokes the center of her hand mindlessly and her breath hitches again, probably a reminder of how close they are now. They make eye contact for a brief second and then both look away, he swallows for what feels like the 100th time in the last 5 minutes and continues.

'Um, I found this book on palm reading, I think I actually became a little obsessed with it. It was great. Maybe I just liked to think that everybody had a map written on their hands, that told their story, like everybody had a fate, you know?' She's looking at him now, eyes searching and intense but yet so soft and intrigued. It's too much for him to handle. 

'It's silly.' 

'No, it's not, it's cute.' He looks up and she's blushing, the shade of pink barely noticeable, almost hidden by the fire, but just about there, high in the apples of her cheeks. 'Tell me more,' she prompts. 

'I'd read my sisters, my mums and then when I ran out of family members to rope into my fun, and school came back from term, I'd go around doing it for other students, figured I could charge the um- more wealthy ones a couple of coins.' 

She almost giggled, 'Of course you did.'

He continues on, smile wider now. 

'Eventually I ran out of people who were interested and school got in the way again, but,' he lifts her hand slightly and rests it gently on his knee, 'I've never really forgotten it.' 

'So?' 

'So, what?' his brows furrow together. 

'So, whats my fortune, Prophet Bellamy,' she teases. 

'Actually I don't think you call a prophet a prophet and then their name i-' 

'Bell,' she interrupts him. 

'Oh yeah, sorry. Um.'

He reaches over with his other hand, turning to face her completely now, and cradles her small, dainty hand in his larger and rougher ones. Both of them are caked in a layer of dirt and grime, blood and mud ridden well underneath each of their fingernails, but he doesn't care. She's so warm. So... Clarke. 

'Okay, I'm, uh- a little rusty. Don't judge.'

'I would never,' she says and he smiles up at her. 

'So this line here,' he runs his forefinger gently down the line extending from her thumb to the center of the bottom of her palm, a gentle curve. 

'This is your life line. It's long, something that I wish I had known before I left for space,' she let's out burst of nervous laughter, he carries on, 'it's long and broken up at parts.' 

'Oh, that doesn't sound good.'

Oh no, it's fine,' he tries to reassure her, 'It just means that you have a tendency to rush onto new tasks without taking any breaks, you have a problem seeing your own accomplishments, just like mine.'

He extends his hand towards her and she briefly traces the same curve on it and then on her own. 

'Oh yeah,' she mumbles, seemingly thinking something over in her head. 'How come it doesn't break off towards the end?' 

Her eyes lock with his, hers inquisitive, ocean blue, brows furrowed slightly causing that little crease between them to make an appearance. He wishes he could kiss it. Sooth it. 

'I'm not sure,' he nudges her softly with his elbow, 'Maybe it means that eventually we'll catch a break.' 

'Oh thank god,' she beams, 'about damn time.' 

'Yeah,' he touches the next line on her palm and her attention returns to the scene before them. 

'This line here? It's the heart line, just below it there Is the head line-' 

'Huh,' she says, so quite he thinks it might be to herself. 

'What, you okay?' 

'Oh, yeah. Sorry. What- what do they represent?' she stutters a little and he pretends not to notice. 

'Uh, the heart line is the love line. Yours is long, but it ends here. Between the mount of Jupiter and saturn-' 

'The what?' 

'They have names, Clarke,' he says, so seriously that she barks out a laugh. 

'Of course they do. You're a dork.' 

That gets a laugh out of him. 

'Thanks, anyway. Yours ends here,' he traces the point softly, and she leans closer, 'It means that- uh, that the love in your life is pure.' 

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, feeling suddenly extremely self-aware. But he might as well continue now. 

'Its broken at the beginning, like the life line, but it's stronger towards the end. Rough at the beginning of your life, but smoother, stronger towards the ending point. Here,' he taps the point where the line fades. 

He stares at it for a moment before he risks looking up at her, she's looking at him a little wrecked, a little lost. He realises with a start that what he said may not fall into the platonic category. He also notices that her line similarly reflects his own. He searches for something to say next. 

'Clarke-' he begins. 

'Do you believe in it?' she cuts him off. She's looking nervous again and his mind can't quite catch up to what's she's said. 

'Believe in what?' 

'You know, palm reading? Fate? You said you were obsessed with it, you didn't say whether or not you believed in it.'

'Oh,' she's looking for an answer he's not sure how to give. 

'Yeah,' is what he lands on, 'yeah I guess I do.'

She looking at him now, with a mixture of hope and something else, and he wonders if its a look reserved just for him. He wonders what his face looks like. 

'That's good. Yeah,' she clears her throat, all while still looking at him. 'I guess me too.' 

It's quiet for a second and it feels a little like both of them are holding their breath. 

'Clarke-' he says, again. 

'I missed you, Bellamy. I missed you so god damn much.'

It takes him by surprise but he's quick to recover. 

'I missed you, too,' and just for the hell of it, he adds, 'so God damn much.' 

She laughs a little, teary and his vision is starting to get a little blurred, too. Before he can process it, she's wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and snuggling her face into neck. The amount of intimacy catches him off guard as per usual, but then, almost without making the conscience decision to move at all, he's running one hand through her hair and lifting her up and onto his lap, in order to reach all angles of her body. 

He buries his nose into her much shorter hair and finds she smells like the woods, like the grass, musty and sweet. Like... Clarke. They're both older now, wiser, but this still feels the same. This still feels like his home. 

A thought occurs to him, almost distantly, that he should move. That the position they're in might be inappropriate, but then she clutches onto him tighter and all coherent thoughts go out the window, because this is what he wants. He wants her. All of her. And she may or may not feel the same way, but if this is all he gets? He's damn right ecstatic.

And when she whispers 'don't let go' into his neck? He gets the feeling that she might just feel the same way. 

'I would never.'


End file.
